


354. not for sale

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [182]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pawn Shop, screw you that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9103198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: “Why the hell can't I buy 'em!” Sarah says, throwing her hands into the air. “You’re not doin’ anything with ‘em! They were five bloody pounds, I saw your bloody price tag! I’m the only person who wants the stupid bloody things!”“No longer for sale,” Helena says, scratching her nose. “Much sorries. Maybe buy stuffed coyote instead? Needs love. Very nice.”They lose a couple seconds while Sarah turns and looks at the taxidermied coyote. It definitely needs love. “Nice” is probably the wrong word; it looks like it’s met with the business end of a frying pan more than a few times. Its glass eyes are filled with despair.





	

“I bought the biggest bloody lollipop I could find in the store,” Sarah says, slamming the lollipop – about the size of a dinner plate – on the pawn shop’s counter. “Can I _please_ buy your bloody ring of keys now.”

Helena eyes the lollipop contemplatively. She picks it up. She taps on it with a fingernail. “This is good,” she says, in the pleased voice of someone used to appraisals. “Very nice colors. Good candy.”

“Also,” she says, “no.”

“Why the hell not!” Sarah says, throwing her hands into the air. “You’re not doin’ anything with ‘em! They were five bloody pounds, I saw your bloody price tag! I’m the only person who wants the stupid bloody things!”

“No longer for sale,” Helena says, scratching her nose. “Much sorries. Maybe buy stuffed coyote instead? Needs love. Very nice.”

They lose a couple seconds while Sarah turns and looks at the taxidermied coyote. It definitely needs love. “Nice” is probably the wrong word; it looks like it’s met with the business end of a frying pan more than a few times. Its glass eyes are filled with despair. Sarah turns back to Helena.

“I bought you the bloody lollipop,” she says slowly. “I – cleaned up your bloody shelves, I got you a bloody sandwich, can I please – can I _please_ just have the keys.”

“Sorry,” Helena says. Her mouth turns down at one corner, as if she’s honestly sad about it. “I love them. Too much love. No selling.”

Sarah sucks in a breath between her teeth, paces the length of the counter and back. A collection of glass eyeballs watch her dolefully as she does. This whole pawn shop smells like old meat and despair; there’s none of the usual pawn shop things in it, guitars or gaming consoles or jewels sold off by desperate hands. Everything in it looks like it’s either been used as a murder weapon or _could_ be used as a murder weapon sometime in the foreseeable future. Even the coyote.

…actually, maybe _especially_ the coyote.

Behind her there’s a crinkling of plastic wrap as Helena unwraps the lollipop and starts licking at it, watching Sarah pace with her head tilted to the side. When she sees Sarah looking she offers the lollipop in Sarah’s general direction. _Fuck it_ , Sarah thinks – she takes the lollipop and licks a big stripe up the opposite side. It tastes like artificial sweetness and food coloring and she offers it back to this _completely insane_ pawn shop owner with no remorse.

Helena looks delighted that she even tried it. This is like some terrible side quest from one of MK’s video games. If Sarah raises their – friendship level, or whatever shit, she can actually get these _stupid_ keys.

“So,” she says. She leans on the counter. She grins winningly. “Busy day?”

“No,” Helena says, completely ignoring Sarah’s smile so she can frown at the lollipop. She attempts to bite into it. There’s a loud _crack_ and a whimper of pain from Helena; she goes back to licking it.

“That’s…nice,” Sarah says.

Helena makes a noncommittal hum. “Only you,” she says. “But you are very funny. Running fast to get sandwiches.” Pauses. “Also, nice for dusting.”

“Glad to help,” Sarah mutters sourly.

“No you’re not,” Helena says sadly. “You want your jingle-ring and then you will be going.” She doesn’t look away from the lollipop. Her tongue, at this point, is a rainbow of impossible colors. Sarah realizes this at the same time that she realizes Helena is lonely. She would very much like to take one of those revelations back, because it’s just sort of sad. She swallows, looks over to the side.

There is no way the coyote _actually_ looks sad or lonely. She’s projecting. She looks back.

“How ‘bout this,” she says. “This place is a bloody junk heap—”

“You are very rude, this is a cave of treasures—”

“ _This place is a bloody junk heap_ and if you sell me the stupid bloody keys I’ll help you clean it.”

Helena stares at her over the lollipop. Her tongue darts out. Very slowly, and without breaking eye contact, she licks the lollipop. Then her tongue darts back in.

“For a _month,_ ” Sarah says.

Helena considers this, eyes narrowed. The only sound is her tongue rasping against the lollipop. Suddenly she leaps up from her position against the counter, grabs the keys from where they’re hanging on a hook, and slaps them onto the counter. “Okay,” she says. “Whole store.”

“Fine.”

“One month.”

“ _Fine_.”

“Take the coyote.”

“I’m not gonna take the bloody coyo—” Sarah closes her eyes, inhales sharply through her nose. “ _Fine_ , sure, whatever.”

“Twenty pounds.”

Sarah’s eyes snap open. “It’s five! It says so right there on the tag!”

“Mm,” Helena says. “Wrong tag. Very sorry. Place is heap of junk. Silly Helena, I am putting wrong tag on wrong item. So sad.” She grins, an insincere mouthful of colorful teeth.

“You’re insane,” Sarah tells her flatly, but before Helena can do anything Sarah yanks the keys off the counter. She rummages in her other pocket, pulls out a wad of bills, slaps them on the counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Is date,” Helena says, flicking through the bills. “Bring sandwiches.”

“No.” Sarah heads for the door. She has almost made it – the bell is jingling – when Helena’s head snaps up and she yells “Take the coyote!”

“Shite,” Sarah hisses, and heads back into the store.


End file.
